


The Knight of the Enemy

by QuillsAndInk



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Eventual Smut, Fantasy World, Fluff, Human Experimentation, Hunter!Sam, Internized homophobia, M/M, Medieval time period (ish), Slow Burn, Species racism (if that’s a thing?), Violence, Were!Almost everyone, Were!Castiel, Were-Creatures, hunter!dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 22:24:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13086642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillsAndInk/pseuds/QuillsAndInk
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester are some of the most famed Were hunters in the land. Ever since the shape-shifting creatures killed their parents, the brothers have had a vendetta against them. That is, until Sam is taken by Lucifer, a dragon Were hellbent on irradicating humans from the earth. Then Dean meets Castiel, an eagle Were soldier with orders to bring Lucifer down. Together they strike an unlikely and reluctant alliance that blooms into more and more as they enter a desperate quest to save humanity. As they grow closer, Dean begins to question his morals. Perhaps he was wrong about Weres all these years. But can he really change when his brother is held captive by a murderous beast?





	The Knight of the Enemy

The only sound was the wind rustling through the leaves and the crackling of the beasts’ fire. It wasn't easy to tell that they were beasts just now—they looked human enough—but soon they would reveal themselves.

Dean crept forward, careful not to tread on any leaf litter. Even cow Weres could hear the slightest sound from two hundred paces and they would either shift or bolt from the oncoming danger. Dean needed to be on top of them before he could strike.

Sam hung back further, using the shadows to hide his bulk. He slipped around the clearing across from Dean, finding the perfect position to attack. As the brothers drew near they heard laughter and tales being swapped among the beasts. They seemed peaceful. Dean knew better. This particular herd had gored several people from the nearby village to death. One village scholar suggested Sam and Dean find out why they had done this when the brothers were hired. Sam took on a sympathetic look and Dean scoffed outright.

“There is no reasoning with beasts. They're no better than mad animals you have to cut down to save the village. You didn't hire peacemakers, you hired hunters. Now are you gonna let us do our job or not?” Dean had demanded. The scholar’s mouth shut with a click and the village elders promised a hefty sum of gold for the death of the Were herd. After all, the only good Were was a dead Were. And that was that. Sam and Dean collected their knives and waited until the cover of darkness to seek out their quarry.

Dean crouched in a bush fifty paces from the beasts’ camp. He could see them, smell the foul, bovine odor that sloughed off their sweaty bodies, but now wasn't the time to strike. Sam needed to be in position first so the beasts could be dispatched before they had a chance to shift. The herd was sitting in a half circle around their fire, completely oblivious to the danger lurking in the dark. It seemed they didn’t realize that their fire in the clearing made them sitting ducks. Dean smirked. Stupid, stupid animals.  
A flash of silver came from the bushes across the clearing and Dean took a careful step forward. Sam’s eyes glittered back at him, illuminated poorly by the firelight between them. Dean raised his knife between the leaves and branches.

The signal. The _strike_.

Dean burst through the bushes and into the clearing where the beasts had gathered. They panicked and tried to flee, but they only got as far as Sam, and one by one, the brothers eviscerated them. The herd was largely females, a few young were among them, and they looked so human, Dean almost balked killing them. Almost. They were human now, but soon they wouldn't be. They'd be able to rearrange their bodies into the killing machines that bull and even cow Weres could be, and Dean couldn't stand for that. No one deserved to die at the hands of a beast, even if that meant Dean had to kill some kids.

It was when most of the herd was slain that Dean realized their mistake.  
The male, a fully grown bull Were had panicked with the rest of his herd, but Sam and Dean’s lapse of attention gave him time to shift and circle back. He was massive, easily eight feet tall with thick, spiraled horns curling from the sides of his head. Dean locked eyes with him. The bull’s tail slashed the air and his humanesque hands curled into fists. Out of his periphery Dean saw Sam edging around the bull, lining up to attack from behind. Dean did his best to hold the beast’s attention, but he was wary. If the bull chose to charge, Dean would be dead before he hit the ground. The bull lowered his head and bellowed a loud groan. He pawed the earth with his great cloven foot.

And then he arched back with a cry of pain that echoed through the night. Sam darted out of the bull’s path as he turned and searched for his assailant. A knife handle sprouted from his back and his dark fur turned darker with blood. Dean knew he wouldn't get a better chance. He crept up behind the beast and sprang on his back. The bull howled and swung around, attempting to shake Dean off. Dean clung desperately to the bull’s shoulders. The hilt of Sam’s knife bumped painfully into Dean’s abdomen as he was flailed about. Gargantuan muscles rippled beneath Dean’s hand. If the bull slung him around again, he would be sent crashing through the trees. Dean quickly removed one hand and slammed his knife through the column of the beast's throat. With surprised gurgling, the bull fell to his knees. Dean slid off his back and stepped back where Sam had been watching, waiting to step in if need be.

The bull dropped face down and after a few painful, wet breaths, he stopped moving. Sam went to dislodge his knife from the monster’s back. Dean followed closely.

“You smell like cow,” Sam told Dean. He wrinkled his nose. “And you're covered in blood.” Dean grinned wide as he lifted the creature’s head by the horns and removed his own knife.

“You love my stink, Sammy,” he dragged a hand through the blood that soaked through his tunic and tabard and wiped it on Sam’s.

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam pulled a face.

“Just didn't want you to miss out on the perfume,” Dean laughed. Sam grumbled and strode off into the woods. Dean trotted to keep pace with Sam and knocked their shoulders together. A begrudging smile formed on the younger man’s lips.

“You know, killing Weres to help people is one thing. You don't have to enjoy it.” Sam was clearly trying to bait Dean into a fight. Dean didn't rise.

“‘Course I do, Sammy. Otherwise there'd be no joy in my life.” Sam made a tsk sound, but didn't argue. Dean smiled smugly, knowing he had won. Besides, he didn't think anyone would blame him for enjoying the death of the things that killed his mother.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam sighed without malice.

“I guess we’ll let the villagers burn the bodies?”

“They didn't pay our fire tax,” Dean reminded him. Sam kicked a rock in annoyance.

“They're too poor of a village for that, Dean. They already paid us so much.”

“Doesn't matter. We gotta eat still, Sammy. It's a beast eat beast world and I, for one, won't do things unless I'm it paid to do.”

“They _are_ letting us stay at the inn for free…”

“As they should. We’re heroes, Sammy. Now it's time for meat, beer and that barmaid.” Dean waggled his eyebrows until Sam mock retched.

“You go ahead. I think I'll catch some sleep.”

“Suit yourself. I'm gonna have a celebration.”

“There's no way you can pick up a girl smelling like that.”

“Ye of little faith,” Dean chastened his brother, even has a smile tugged at his lips. Sam hefted aggrieved if affectionate sigh.

“You're stupid, jerk.” He gave Dean a friendly shove. Dean’s laughter rang into the night.

“Shuddup, bitch.”

Sam did join Dean in celebration, and both heartily drank the inn’s bitter ale. Dean did his best in wooing the pretty barmaid, and she prettily told him that she was but a servant. Sam's mouth began to form into a smirk, but Dean shot him a dark glare.

“Oh, no one’s just servant. And no servant looks like you do, sweetheart,” Dean said as he gave her his most winning smile.

“Yes, sir.” Her cheeks darkened. She dashed away, mumbling something about refilling their beers. Dean gave Sam a triumphant smile.

“See, Sammy?”

“It's probably because she never got close enough to smell you. I can. And dude. Bath.” Dean grinned in the direction for the barmaid.

“All in good time, all in good time.”

“You're a pig, you know that?”

“Nah. I just like my simple pleasures.” Dean made a crude gesture with his hand and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Well, you enjoy that. I heard talk of some Weres that are harassing a town not far from here. I'm gonna ask around.  
“Have fun with that,” Dean slapped Sam on the shoulder. “Meanwhile I’ll retire to my chambers with a beautiful woman.”

“No way is she coming back over here,” Sam scoffed.

“That's your problem, Sammy-”

“ _Sam_.”

“ _Sammy_ , as I was saying, you have no faith.”

The barmaid returned, still pretty, still blushing and stood close enough that she could certainly smell the cow blood. Dean hesitated as she took a deep inhale to steady herself.

“Sir, perhaps you'd like me to join you in your chambers tonight?”  
Dean tossed a triumphant smirk at Sam.

“Of course, sweetheart. I'll be right there.”

“Thank you, sir.” She ducked her head and strode off.

“What'd I tell you, Sammy?” Dean stretched his arms over his head leisurely. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. I'm going to find about about those Weres.” He got up and walked over to a group of men in a dimly lit corner of the inn.

Dean rose too, but he went to his chambers to enjoy a hot bath. And enjoy it he did, the hot water had cooled and was tinged red from the bull’s blood before he exited the bath. Dean then cleaned his knives and put on his clean breeches.

He had enough time to panic about how to deal with his lady caller. She was pretty, but why him? He'd seen her eyes on him the moment he'd entered the inn a couple days previously and his heart had sank then just as it did now. He had to sleep with women. And she was pretty. Any man with a working cock between his legs would want her. Dean did too, or at least, he wanted to want her.

His thoughts were ruptured by a timid knock on his chamber door. Dean answered it to find the barmaid, lovely as lovely gets, awaiting him. Wanting him. Dean allowed her entry and he gave her what she came for. She was even more beautiful in ecstasy and so wanton were her noises that Dean worried the entire inn would be disturbed by them. Still, Dean kept on. Loving her, fucking her. But if Dean was being honest, the only reason why his cock twitched wishing the confines of its pigskin sheath was because he was picturing the stable boy he had seen earlier. Dean closed his eyes to imagine it was the stable boy beneath him. Or perhaps, he was beneath the stable boy. Either way, Dean felt lovesick on someone who'd never even been close enough to touch him. He came into the sheath with a low sound and promptly rolled off the barmaid.

She never saw the tear that rolled down his cheek unbidden. Instead, she thanked him quietly and showed herself out. Dean ripped the sheath away and fell asleep cold, naked and miserable.  
The next morning Dean scrubbed his face with cold water to rid to wake himself up and disgustedly disposed of the sheath. After getting dressed, mindful of his bruised and aching muscles, Dean stuffed his dirty clothes and other belongings into his battered satchel and plastered a satisfied smirk on his face to go find Sam. Sam just rolled his eyes when he saw Dean. They had a quick breakfast of bread and cheese before Sam told Dean of his findings last night.

“Apparently, it's a _dragon_ ,” Sam told Dean excitedly. As much as he shared Dean’s hatred for Weres, Sam couldn't get enough of learning about them.

“We've never seen one of those before.”

“All that matters is can we kill it,” Dean replied.

“We should, but we don't have much of a chance if it shifts.”

“Where's the village?”

“A day’s ride from here.”

“What are we waiting for? Let's go saddle the horses.”

Dean abruptly stood up and allowed Sam to dole out money for their breakfast while he went to the inn’s stables. The sweet smell of hay and horses lulled Dean’s heart after the previous night. The stable boy was thankfully nowhere to be seen, but Impala whickered as soon as she smelled him in the stable with her. Dean went to the beautiful black destrier, drawn to her like a moth to flame. Impala, the truest and purest love of his life.

“Hey there, baby,” Dean crooned to her, “I got you a present.” Dean withdrew a lump of sugar from a purse around his neck and offered it to her on the flat of his palm. Impala took it delicately and Dean rubbed her long nose. He huffed a breath into her nostrils and kissed the white star on her forehead as she craned her neck down to search him for more sugar. Dean laughed as she bumped his chest meaningfully. He opened the door to her stall and went to get her tack. Impala followed him. Charger, Sam’s lovely chestnut stallion bellowed as they passed his stall.

“Sammy’ll be right out. Patience,” Dean admonished him. But Dean was a friend to all horses and he snuck a lump of sugar to him, too. He quickly packed their saddlebags with knives, poisons, pultices, gold and their personal satchels before he saddled and bridled Impala. He was mounted and ready to go before Sam came into the stable and began to coax Charger into being still enough to put a saddle on.

“Dean, quit giving him sugar!” Sam barked as Charger jerked his head, nearly ripping the reins from Sam’s hands. It took Sam several minutes to swing onto the horse’s back. Dean’s stomach ached from his laughter.

“‘S what you get, Sammy. You were the one who _had_ to have a stallion.”

“Oh, come on Dean…”

“Bitch,” Dean giggled as he urged Impala forward, “last one there gets to clean the Were guts off the knives and the clothes.”

“You're on,” Sam shouted from somewhere behind him. “Jerk!”

It was a hard ride to the next village, but Dean enjoyed it thoroughly. He was never more happy than when he was on his horse, chasing the horizon. Sam complained that riding made him stiff, but Dean knew he secretly loved it too. He had to. How could he not? The horses seemed to enjoy the ride as well. Charger pranced around and arched his neck, despite Sam’s efforts to keep him focused. It seemed he was always showing off for Impala.

“He's just like you,” Sam teased, “can't help trying to catch the eye of a pretty lady.” Something twisted uncomfortably inside Dean.

“Yeah,” he said with a weak grin, “just like me.”

Charger calmed the moment they reached the village. Half the houses were burnt beyond recognition. Even the stone huts bore scorch marks. A distinctly terrible odor hung thick in the air, causing Dean’s stomach to roil unpleasantly. They found the cause in a pile of burned, torn bodies. Flies hummed around them in a lazy dance of the dead and rotting. Dean coughed and covered his nose as Sam began to retch. Dean urged Impala to keep going, and she was all too happy to comply. Charger followed them unbidden by the still ill Sam. In the distance there was a small clutch of more stone dwellings and people milling about them. Sam recovered and took Charger abreast Dean and Impala to offer their services.

“People,” Dean called to them, “we come in peace. I am Dean and this is my brother, Sam. We are hunters and we've come to slay the dragon Were.” The villagers turned to them. Their skepticism was almost palpable.

“I’ve heard of you. The brothers Winchester, right?” Said one bald man.

“That's us,” Sam agreed.

“Heard you killed an entire herd of cows Weres.”

“Including the bull. And a pack of wolf Weres before that. And an owl Were before that. I still have a mark from its talons,” Dean said with pride, “but let it be said that not a single one of those unnatural sons of bitches ever survives us.” The bald man shook his head.

“But you ain’t never seen a dragon.”

“We haven’t,” Sam replied, “but-”

“But nothing. It’s bigger, stronger and meaner than any other Were I’ve encountered. I’ve been roaming here a lot longer than you,”

“Sir, we are professionals. We have spent many years killing Weres, we know what we’re doing,” Dean chimed in.

“That thing breathes fire,” the man retorted.

“And we’ll bring water,” Dean replied firmly. The man sighed and cast a long look over the remains of the village.  
“If you want to die for us, be my guest. It stays in a cave over there.” The man gestured to a range of craggy bluffs. Dean eyes them critically then gave a sharp nod

“Okay. But before we go, are you aware of our price?” He asked.

“Dean,” Sam hissed urgently. The bald man took no offense though. He only scoffed.

“Son, if you come out of that cave and back here alive with that thing’s head, I’ll pay you triple.”

“I’ll forge you a blade of its teeth in its blood,” Dean shot back before turning Impala toward the bluffs. He pressed his heels into her sides and she leapt into an easy trot. Within seconds Sam and Charger were beside them and only the clop clop of the horses’ hooves permeated the air. For the first time, Dean realized eeriness of the village. Not even birdsong filled the air. It seemed much more than the village had been taken.

“There isn’t much lore on dragon Weres,” Sam was saying, “but from what I’ve read, once their shifted, they can breathe fire.”

“Okay, so we don’t let the son of a bitch shift. Anything else?”

“They’re smart, they’re fast, they’re stronger than us and their scales are impervious to almost anything. If it shifts, we don’t have a chance,” Sam explained darkly.

“The villagers said it only comes out at night,” Dean reasoned, “maybe it’ll be sleeping now.” Sam gave Dean a doubtful sideways look.

“How do we know for sure? And who’s to say it won’t smell us as soon as we enter its den?”

“Look, if you have a better idea, I’m all ears. For now, this is all we’ve got and that thing needs to be dead.”  
Sam huffed and Dean hid a triumphant smirk. He knew when he’d won. Sam would never be able to deny that the killing of a Were was paramount. Especially after what happened to their parents.

“Fine. But let’s take the silver knives, to be on the safe side.”

“Fine by me.”

The rest of the ride was in silence. Sam was clearly mulling over a plan and Dean allowed him that. In another life, he would have been a scholar. As it was, Sam’s intelligence far surpassed Dean’s and Dean couldn’t have been prouder. Or more grateful. Sam’s wit had saved them from more than one sticky situation.  
Soon, the gently rolling valley gave way to craggy outcroppings of rock and a loss of trail for the horses. Dean reluctantly slid out of Impala’s saddle and gave her back a long pat. She carelessly began to lip at some weedy-looking grass that had managed to grow from a crevice in a boulder. Dean pulled his weapon from his saddlebag and turned to Sam who had also dismounted and was now worrying his lip.

“Sam, just spit it out. You sitting there all nervous does us no good,” Dean barked.

“What if things go awry? How are we gonna get to the horses? Who’s to say they won’t spook?” Sam clenched his knife in his fist. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Oh, come on. We rode them into a pride of lion Weres and they didn’t even flinch. Charger ran at the damn things to try to save you. They won’t go anywhere.”

“Yeah, but what if—“

“Nothing. They aren’t dumb. If they spook they’ll go where people are, which is the village, and we could conceivably walk there.” Dean fixed Sam with a hard stare. “Just because the type of Were is new doesn’t mean protocol changes.”

“You’re right. But—”

“I know, caution and all that. Come on. We’re gonna gank this evil fucker like we always do, right?” Dean knocked his shoulder against Sam’s. Sam grinned at him.

“Yeah we are.”

They began the treacherous climb into the crags. It took nearly all of Dean’s strength to haul himself up and over each rock. The jagged sides slashed through his clothes and right into Dean’s skin. He swore under his breath. He had no doubt that the dragon Were would be able to smell the blood. Sam was faring little better than Dean, though his lengthier legs granted him an easier time in lunging over the medium sized crevasses.

Finally, they reached a flat ledge which served as an entryway to a cave that stank of death. Dean hurriedly wiped as much blood away as he could. No need to wake what was slumbering in the dark. Still, dark fluid seeped between his fingers as quickly as he tried to remove it. The cuts were deep.

“Dean, you’re hurt.” Sam’s voice became edged in worry.

“Thanks, Sammy, I really wouldn’t have known without your stunning insight,” Dean snarked back in an attempt to assuage Sam’s anxiety.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this…” Sam trailed off and bit his lip. Dean brandished his knife.

“You and I both know we’ve had much worse than a scratch. Let’s go get that Were.” Dean began to trudge into the cave, leaving Sam no option but to relent. The wounds throbbed with Dean’s pulse, but he paid them no mind. He had a job to do: ridding the world of Weres, one at a time. A cut from a rock seemed insignificant compared to that.

The gloom of the cave was absolute. Dean couldn’t see his hand, only a foot in front of him, clutching his silver knife like a lifeline. Every step he made was silent and careful. Who knew what traps the beast could’ve laid to capture people seeking shelter in its lair? Dean cast his head around, searching for any sign of Sam in the darkness. A heavy thud turned Dean’s head to the left.

“Sammy?” Dean whispered, “you okay?”

“Looking for me?” A silky voice with all the timbre of a glacier crooned in Dean’s right ear. Dean whipped his knife toward the voice but it only caught the air. Fire blazed into the cave, illuminating Sam lying face down on the cave floor. His muscles were taut with pain and the only sign of life was the weak rise and fall of his back as he fought for breath. Dean’s stomach swooped at the two identical stab wounds in Sam’s back that were leaking dark blood. A lithe young woman stood above him, a Were of some sort, Dean was sure.Then the cave went black and only an eerie pair of red eyes remained visible.

“Bind him,” said the same voice, almost boredly. Something long, two pronged, and sharp sank into the meat of Dean’s shoulder and Dean screamed in agony. It felt like fire had been lit in his veins and it spread like lime, hardening his muscles until he could do naught but fall on the cave floor. The blade was wrenched away from Dean’s hands and he was dragged out of the cave by something massive and covered in fur.

Sunlight pierced Dean’s eyes, but the sharpness was nothing compare to the pain that throbbed with his heart from whatever he had been stabbed with. He was released from his captor and Sam was dragged beside him. They were prostrate on the ground and as much as Dean fought, he found he muscles unyielding and more painful by the second.

“Well, well, well, this is a treat. The brothers Winchester, stumbling into my lair,” the dragon said in a voice smoother and cooler than ice. He was human now, and naked as the day he was born.

“ _Bastard_ ,” Dean choked out through his involuntarily clenched jaw.

“Make them kneel.” Dean swore he could hear the dragon’s smile. Clawed paws wrapped around Dean’s shoulders, dragged him onto his knees and held him there. Dean couldn’t contain a scream of agony as his muscles cramped around the new position. Beside him, Sam let out a low groan of pain. He was wrapped in the coils of a violently black snake Were. Dean swallowed laboriously in rage and helplessness.

“Okay, boys, here’s how this is going to work.” The dragon continued smoothly. His lips curled over his teeth in a dangerous smile. “I need humans. You need an antidote for the venom Ruby so generously bestowed on you. Who’s ready to join me?”

“Eat...shit,” Dean growled through his teeth.

 

“Have it your way,” the dragon sighed carelessly. A heavy, clawed fist smashed down on Dean’s head and he dropped like a stone against the craggy ground with a cry. The dragon stepped closer to Sam.

“It’ll have to be you. Your silence is a virtue.” The dragon’s feet turned toward Dean. “You’ll be dead before nightfall. Don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of your brother.” A hard kick to Dean’s temple made his vision swim.

The dragon shifted and began to drag Sam into the air. The great beating of his wings sent waves of wind buffeting over Dean’s back. The other two Weres—the dragon’s cronies, Dean thought—slithered and scampered after him on the ground.

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam cried from far above where Dean couldn’t lift his head to see.

“Sammy,” Dean murmured below, already losing strength. The world shimmered and sank into blackness as new wingbeats and a screaming came across the sky.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own nor do I claim to own Supernatural or the characters therein. They belong to Eric Kripke and the CW network. I own nothing but the plot. I make no monetary benefit from this story. I live to entertain.


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